


Candles

by cuntoid



Category: sadsack
Genre: As it should be, Blood Fetish, Bloodlust, Coercion, Creampie, Degradation, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Handcuffs, Menstrual blood, Oral Sex, Power Outage, blood blood so much blood, but.... is it really dubcon?, dubcon, garv chows down like it's his last meal, garv is a creepy fucking creature, light ddlg, sad sack, this is pure fucking trash, what's new right guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: Titles are overrated. Garv comes over to keep her company during a power outage, and he thinks of some fun things to do to pass the time!





	Candles

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for letting me get this outta my system, pals

“Hey – hey, _asshole!_ Fuck.” 

Twin flames stare back under hooded lids, deep and black enough in the dark that they seem too large, like Garv’s turned into some fucked up caricature of himself. She watches and waits, lingers, breath held tight in her chest before it comes rushing out in a nervous laugh. A scoff. Neither of them are sure, but the weird spell breaks when they share an uneasy smile together. 

“What?”

“What do you mean, _what?_ Watch out with the – the fuckin’, uh… _candle._ Not trying to burn the house down.”

Garv scans the room around him and it’s a wonder he can see anything at all; even when the power works, half his gaze is hidden under that greasy fucking hair of his, shielding him from… what? He puts the candle down on the floor, away from his face, and gestures around him. Eyes roll derisively in his skull.

“You have, like, seventy candles lit in here. How does anyone own this many candles, huh? Jesus Christ. It’s like you’re _trying_ to set it on fire.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and nudges him with a bare foot. They stare at each other over candle light and he snakes slim fingers over the offending appendage, teasing the toes with that slimy little smile on his mouth, crooked, charming in its repulsiveness. Toes curl and he sucks a breath in through his teeth, clenched and gleaming. When she swallows, there’s a delicate click that makes him squeeze her foot. He tickles his fingertip in circles over her heel - he heard, somewhere, that there were nerves in the heel, stimulating nerves. The thought of her enjoying his hands on her feet makes him chew on the inside of his lip.

“I think I can figure out how to pass the time… that’s why I’m over, right?”

A forefinger traces lazily over her ankle, under her heel and along the arch. It comes back and continues up, up, over the fine hairs along the curve of her calf and into that velvety-tender place behind her knee. Tendons flex there and he seeks the dip between them. Garv imagines running his tongue along the cords buried there. He imagines them against his teeth, wonders with a little flutter in his guts if those tendons might burst and crunch and separate under his bite. He licks the point of his canine and rubs two of those fingers in obscenely slow circles again.

In the dark, the flush in her cheeks is harder to see, but _oh_ , is it _palpable_.

“I can’t,” she mumbles. “I mean – I… _can_ , it’s just that I’m, like… _sore_.”

“I didn’t think _that_ would ever stop you.” He tucks his hair behind his ear, eyes sliding over her like oil, greasy as ichor, and the look on her face makes Garv feel a certain kind of thrill. Her wide, dumb eyes. The vacancy there, the way even her gaze begs him to fill her up. “Didn't think anything would, if I'm being honest."

"Well, it's more like, I'm on the rag, and, you know... it's kind of a massacre. Too messy. It's totally cool, don't worry."

Garv’s jaws part and bite back together, eyes wide, and if he licks his fucking teeth one more time she might implode. He pushes the candle to the side and with the shift of light comes an unexpected shift of perception. Garv is only slightly more shadowy, and the shadows do their work – he becomes less Garv, more… something else. His face warps and snaps back and warps once again without light to guide her eye, and the shine of teeth and his big, feral gaze are the only sure thing in the shifting landscape of his face. Gentle fingers behind her knee move up, squeezing at her thigh.

“A _massacre,_ huh? Yeah?” Garv leans forward and there’s a rush in her belly, an explosion of dread and excitement and fear as he supports himself on wiry arms, crawling over like a fucking animal, and all there is, is his _teeth_. Sweat glitters at his hairline as she pulls her legs up, poised to scoot away from him. Instead, she sits, anchored, fingers trembling in the carpet. His voice dips low, like he’s sharing a secret. Conspiring with her. “ _I can smell it, you know._ Your blood. Could smell your cunt across the room when I came inside. You know what that kind of thing _does_ to me?”

“My cunt or my blood?” It’s remarkable that words come, that her throat doesn’t close up and suffocate them before they’re born on her tongue. 

Garv laughs. It’s light, pleasant. He’s handsome as he laughs, and it’s so easy to relax, to loosen the muscles she didn’t know were so tense, and – 

The pain is fleeting. It sparks in the room like static, just enough to keep her distracted for the split second it takes Garv to pounce. There’s barely any struggle when there’s no preparation for his slim, lithe body, compact but powerful, all bones and iron will and need. He wrestles her to the floor and turns her, forces her on her belly and digs his knee between her shoulder blades to keep her still. His heavy breaths tickle her hair, full of his desperation. It comes off him in metallic waves, an almost-scent that stings her nostrils as her face grinds against carpet, pulling her wrists together.

“Garv, what the _fuck?? Garv_ –” 

_Clickclickclickclick_

“ _Shut up_. Just – _fuck_ , stay still. You want me to hit you again? _I know you like that_.”

“That’s not fair.” The edge of the cuffs dig into the bones of her wrist, just barely too snug. It’s enough to pull the strength from her voice, each syllable a little less sure, a little shakier. “Just… Garv, _think_ about –”

“I thought you might want to play. I mean… isn’t that what you’re _good_ for?”

_Heat_. Behind her, Garv crawls on hands and knees, approaching each candle with pursed lips and shaking fingers, pinching flames out to speed up the process when blowing won't work. The burn stings, but it’s buried so far beneath the buzz of cuffing her that it doesn’t matter. It’s inconsequential. It barely exists. Every alarm bell rings until her flesh might vibrate right off her bones as the flickering shadows on the wall fade, bit by bit, following the eager huffs of his breath.

“C’mon… this is kinda fucked up, right?”

Garv’s hands crawl over her thighs, squeezing, pinching, slapping. He has her absolutely prone. _As it should be_. It’s easier to strip her this way, to peel away the few layers that keep him from that slick, swollen flesh, absolutely bathed in gore, and just the thought of being this close is enough to make his dick hard.

“You keep _doing_ that.”

“… _what?_ ”

“ _Talking_. I don’t want you to _talk_. I want you to stay the fuck still and let me see.”

“ _Fuck you._ ”

“Yeah… like you don’t cum all over my cock when I’m using you up. You _like it_ when I pump your stupid fuckin’ snatch full of cum because you know exactly what you deserve. _Yeah? Hahaha_ … I bet you’re already twitchin’. Right? _Huh?_ Are you just a dumb fucksleeve? A fucksleeve for Daddy?”

Garv’s voice practically shakes between all those heavy breaths, words slinking up her spine and burying themselves in her ears til she has to close her eyes against the murky emptiness. Jeans bunch down her thighs, and Garv removes every obstacle separating them until his breath is there instead, there against the red, red gash of flesh. It’s different than he’d expected – less sharp, so much _headier._

“ _Fuck_ ,” he sighs. “Fuckin’ _Christ_. You’re a mess.” 

She stares wide-eyed into the remaining flickers of light against the wall, waiting, the task of speaking or even producing coherent thought too much to follow through. The room is reduced to Garv’s choked panting, to her own blood rushing in her ears and rolling down her thighs and the sensation of his fingertip as he chases a drop. The almost-moan as he tastes it, and if she has to keep holding her breath, she’s not going to make it. The incriminating sounds building in her lungs burn with the pressure of being held. Nothing gets past Garv, the creepy little fuck. He laughs, and the sound is so utterly unhinged that she’s forced to remember how dangerous Garv can be.

Fingers climb up her spine and thread into her hair, tightening into a fist before he yanks. The sound that rips free from her throat is ugly, sharp and high and cut short as she feels his breath in her face. He kneels next to her and drags his tongue over her cheek, bites down just hard enough over the shell of her ear to make her swallow another whine. 

“ _Tell me you don’t want it_.” He flexes his knuckles and the pressure skyrockets, points of pain bright and focused as the tip of a needle, as a hot knife, many hot knives, like he might scalp her with his bare hand. “Say, _no thank you,_ and I’ll uncuff you and leave you alone. Go ahead.”

The beat after he stops talking stretches on into infinity, silence as suffocating as the way he shoves his fingers between her lips and jabs into the back of her throat. Suspended between his fist in her hair and her knees on the floor, arms wrenched behind her, she’s liberated of any choice; there’s nothing to do but gag and allow Garv to beckon those trapped moans from behind her tongue until she’s red in the face. 

“ _That’s what I thought._ ” He peers at her from inches away, lips peeled back from his teeth and shining with spit. She stares at them and there’s a moment of shared clarity in which they both know she wants to lick them. He does it for her, laughing, tongue dragging over each jagged peak and plateau before he takes his fingers away and releases her hair. The sound she makes smacking her face back into the carpet gives him a satisfaction so deep it forces a shudder up his spine. He leans over and presses a soft, chaste kiss against her ear, nuzzling the tip of his nose along the shell. “If you’re _bad_ , I will peel your fucking skin off and fuck you again. Do you hear me?”

“ _Ohhhgooood…_ ”

Fingers trace the seam of her cunt and the slow plunge inside is _hot_. Flesh parts and pulses and Garv crawls on his knees to watch what he can in the dimness, the faint gleam of red. He curves his fingers until she’s making noise, jabbing up into bleeding flesh until it’s dripping into his palm.

“ _Hold still_.”

His voice curls through his fingers and twines into her guts like barbed wire. Sightless and restrained, blanketed in the silence that comes with power outages, Garv’s tone is like so many more hands petting at her. Coaxing. Soothing. _Demanding._ The way he fucks her with his fingers is almost exploratory, slow and deep and almost gentle. _Almost_. 

He pulls his fingers out and there’s barely time to protest before his tongue replaces them. The shock of feeling him there isn’t enough to make her pull away – instead, it begs her to push against it, to plead with her body for him to lap at her, to go faster, firmer, to brush the sharp edges of his teeth along a swollen lip. He nibbles at her and a sound unlike any he’s ever made draws a sharpness cleanly through her veins as though needles spill from his lips. Nails dig into thighs, burrowing into flesh as he bares his red teeth and _bites_. The shriek ripping through her throat isn’t clean at all. It’s filthy and furrowed as the scrapes he leaves as he squeezes her, sucking and licking and biting until her sounds turn into words, and through the fog he remembers to listen to them.

_Garv Garv Garv please please please Garv please Garv PLEASE_

The force with which Garv has to restrain himself from biting into her cunt is immense. It’s a struggle that makes his hands shake, and there, he must also show restraint – he releases his fingernails from underneath her skin and closes his eyes, tastes, imagines her _cold_. His mind swims in red. All there is, is red. All that exists is the smell and taste and texture of her bleeding cunt, like meat. 

“ _Stay the fuck. Still._ ”

Garv says the words, but they don’t even sound like him. They hang suspended in the air, somewhere between her heaving breaths and his panting. She might pluck them out of the air, but instead she drools into the carpet and spits hair out of her mouth. There are tears and sweat and saliva, snot and sound, and yet one word that she won’t give life to is _stop_.

Somewhere below Garv’s tongue, muscles tighten. She twitches against his lips, almost in time with the pulse of his cock, and he palms it in his jeans with the same tortured moans that pour from her like her blood over his chin. It’s so _hot_ in the room. Sweat pours over every inch of his trembling frame, like his flesh might slough off his form and, then, maybe he _would_ consume her, all teeth and joints and stark white bone, fraying cords of muscle, a flayed man and his kill. 

“ _You’d like that, huh._ Like me to tear you apart, eat you whole.” His rambling meets silence when he pulls away, licking his teeth clean, swiping at his cheeks and chin with his fingertips to lick it off while the other hand yanks at his fly. It’s like taut, wet velvet, the tender undersides of his knuckles against slippery cock. While he strokes himself into his palm, the bleeding girl under his tongue starts to convulse and wail. Teeth come back. The tremors of her orgasm set off something deep in the rank, roiling pits of his guts, something awful, evil, delicious, filling up the knobbed column of his spine and flowing up through his arteries. He bites at her, at her ass, her thighs, gets that tender flesh at the joining of cunt and thigh and listens to her _scream_. And still, _still_

_no_

_stop._

“Are you _really_ cumming? So hard, too, _fuck_ … you’re dripping. You’re dripping blood all over your fucking carpet, you nasty bitch.”

“ _Fffuuck youu, Garv!_ ”

“Oh, yeah? ‘ _Fuh-fuh-FUCK ME, GARV, FUCK ME LIKE THE WHORE I AM!_ ’ Is that what you _meant_ to say?? Huh? _SPEAK UP, BITCH_.”

He’s draped over her, forcing his weight over her strained arms until he’s guiding his cock into her with one hand and jamming his fingers inside her cheek with the other, yanking, pulling her dumb lips open until he can feel her teeth squeak on his knuckle. 

His fingers and tongue did absolutely nothing to prepare her for the intrusion – she makes a new sound, struggles with one cheek on the floor and the other held open. Garv pumps his hips like a dog in heat, focused only on the _tightness,_ that secret, boiling, festering heat enveloping his cock, just a little taste of heaven. He wants to _see_. He wants to see his own prick covered in her gore, fucking a bleeding cunt open, and he foregoes his fingers in her mouth to pull his phone out of his pocket. It illuminates him in full, excruciating detail, and he snaps photo after photo, the obnoxious shutter sound sneaking in between her moaning. Her voice is going out. She might be crying, choking on her sobs, but the way she clenches gives her away. He grabs the cuffs for leverage, leaning back to take shaky pictures of her abused thighs. If he slows his hips, he can barely make out a few teeth marks.

“Gunna keep these for later – a little prize for me,” he mumbles. He’s absolutely breathless, making sounds like a fucking animal. “I can _feel_ you, you know. How close you are again. I _knew_ you’d like it rough, baby – tell me. _Say it_. Thank me for giving it to you the way you need it.”

There’s not silence, but there aren’t words. She keeps moaning, cut short by the hitching in her chest. He turns his phone off and yanks her cheek again. 

“Do I need to fuckin’ _help you_ , bitch? _SAY IT_.” He worms his fingers between her teeth and she considers biting down. He waits for her to, expects it, and his cock throbs when she resists. “ _Good girl_. Is it a _lot_ , baby, _huh?_ Gunna cum again? Yeah? _Yeah?? Tell Daddy, tell Daddy all about it_ , baby, _cum for me_ , bleed for me, _beg_ for me.”

She holds her breath. Her muscles go taut and trembling, so utterly tight that it almost hurts him to thrust, and it takes him a moment to realize that she’s resisting. She’s trying not to cum. 

“ _Aww, c’mon, do ittt_. Do it. Oh – _ohhh, baby girl, there you go_ , gunna do it? Gunna let go? Gunna let me ruin your _nasty fucking cunt_ , fill you up? I should cum inside you. _Huh? Yeah,_ I should. I’m gunna. You must _want_ that, or else you wouldn’t have invited me, not while you’re fuckin’ _bleeding_ and _wet_ and begging for someone to fuckin’ plug you up. You’re just a fucking cocksleeve. _Just Daddy’s little cocksleeve, baby girl_ , show me what _cum-hungry little girls do_ or else I will fucking show you _NEW WAYS TO BLEED_ , do you fucking _hear me?”_

_Please please please Daddy Daddy please Daddy PLEASE_. That’s what it sounds like in her mind, like some fucked up mantra, but the words come out warped with his fingers in her teeth, in the soft meat of her jaw. He pets the soft grooves in her gum, the outlines of the roots of her teeth. He pets the jagged edges and she spasms and whines and bucks back against him as he hammers toward his own completion.

“ _T H A N K M E. NOW_.”

“ _Th-hhaankyou, thankyouthankyouGarvthankyouohgodthankyouDaddypleaseGarv_ –”

He bites into her shoulder until he can taste blood again, rabid, growling into her skin and forcing his cock as deep as he can manage. He rocks with each heavy pulse, draining his balls into her until he’s able to catch his breath again. He licks the indents from his teeth, works the tip of his tongue into the raw little grooves while his dick softens inside of her. It feels obscene, somehow, to be flaccid and still inside her, still tasting her wounds, still so deliriously aroused despite it. 

He unlocks the cuffs and her arms drop to the carpet, two dull, painful thuds that make her hiss as he pulls out. He imagines her expression – miserable, spent, absolutely fucking vacant. _Stupid_ with it. And, like a granted wish, the power flickers to life.

She’s worse than the pictures he creates in his mind, more bruised, bloodier. Her thighs and the swollen flesh between them are coated in gore. The flesh is puffy, discolored a mean viole-purple. _His_ handiwork. _All his_. His cum leaks out of her and threads into the blood, rolls down the curve of inner thigh, and with a shaking hand he takes his phone back out. A glance at his cock has him holding his breath – it’s all over him, on his thighs, the low of his belly. His cock twitches and he points the camera at her, helpless with ache and exhaustion. He takes photo after photo. He leans in close to her face, flushed and wet with hair stuck against her cheek, chapped lips and bloodshot, dilated eyes, trained on his teeth. He smirks.

“ _C’mon, slut_ – give us a smile.”   



End file.
